


peaches & plums, motherfucker.

by thepriexperience



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, S4 Finale fix it, canon? i don't know her, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepriexperience/pseuds/thepriexperience
Summary: Literally- Literally, the day after he throws a peach into a fire, Quentin steps out of thin air to stand in front of Eliot.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	peaches & plums, motherfucker.

Literally-  _ Literally,  _ the day after he throws a peach into a fire, Quentin steps out of thin air to stand in front of Eliot.

It is the best, most anticlimactic thing to ever happen to him. Eliot won't struggle or ache for the love of a lifetime or consider "proof of concept" while he looks at another and sees Q's face or choke every time he bites into a plum. There's no quest, no dangerous and stupid slim chance. 

There's just… Quentin, stepping into the world, with a sound like something softly  _ whoosh _ ing shut behind him.

_ Don't fuck it up this time. _

Q smiles, and Eliot tries to rush toward him, to close this small inconsequential distance-

But there's a giant hole in his gut where Bambi stabbed him to save him, and he'd forgotten his cane at the sight of soft brown hair and a sweet open face. Oh dear; hello, ground.

_ Hello, my love. _

"What the  **_fuck,_ ** " says Margo.

"Thank you, Margo," says Quentin.

They're both on the ground with him now, and Eliot wants to speak, but first he has to  _ breathe _ . Breathe in the smell of Q's neck as he leans in close, careful to steady Eliot and lift him up with Margo. The Destroyer puts Eliot's cane back in his hand with a force that comes from fear, but her silence speaks volumes as she squeezes his fingertips and stares at Q with him. 

Quentin is still close to him, the fabrics of their shirts brushing as they look at each other, just  _ look _ to make up for every one they missed or denied themselves, for every hour they spent apart or ignoring this  _ realness _ they have together. 

"I, uh. Ha. I guess this was my stop," Quentin says to Eliot. Nervous, like he has any reason to be. 

His hands are still on Eliot, curled possessively and protectively around his elbows, his fingers pressed flat against the backs of Eliot's arms. Eliot wants to reach for him, but standing- well, not  _ upright _ , but standing at all without collapsing is difficult enough. He lets Q hang on tight enough for both of them.

Eliot is winded and sore and shaking with emotion, but he says, through demanding draws of air, "Peaches and plums, motherfucker."

*

“Penny put me on a train, in the Underworld. And I just sort of- stayed there.” 

Q wrinkles his brow in though, and Eliot raises his hand to smooth away the frown. They’re pressed against each other in his bed, not quite cuddling, but nearly. Magical medical care or not, his stomach wound aches and pulls, and Eliot is limited in his comfort range. He’s reclined on a multitude of pillows, all charmed by Margo to remain fluffed, and Quentin lays on his side, head propped up by one hand, the other gently cupping the ball of Eliot’s closest shoulder. It’s not nearly as entangled as Eliot would like, but it’s far more than he ever imagined. He won’t be complaining any time soon- At least, not very much. 

“A train?”

Quentin reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pristine looking MetroCard, while Eliot privately marvels at how  _ normal _ that motion is: He never anticipated a real reunion, much less one so intimate and easily attained. 

“Underworld Tourist Visa?” Eliot confirms, and Q nods. “And you never left the train?”

The slightest blush comes to Quentin’s cheeks. 

“It’s, like, a magic train, Eliot. There’s a lot to do on it.”

Eliot smiles and takes his free hand, laces their fingers together. He has so much to tell this beautiful man in his bed, but he’s sore from the earlier fall and overwhelmed and there are freshly dried tears on his cheeks. 

“Tell me everything.”

_ Tell me who you are now. _

And Quentin does. He tells Eliot about the sleeping cars, both private and shared. There are massage parlors and fine dining and crap food and parties and quiet libraries. Quentin has read books that were never written. He’s seen movies that were never made. He tells Eliot about bubble showers instead of baths. 

“I think- I think Margo and I could figure those out, if you like.”

“Oh, I would definitely like.” 

Quentin smiles, Eliot hopes at the idea of the two of them surrounded by sweet smelling bubbles. He continues, 

“I saw Teddy, right before I. Before I got here. He asked about you. About his other dad. If we ever finished The Mosaic.”

Eliot draws in a sharp breath at the thought of their son- lost to a timeline that never happened, except that it  _ did _ , and their boy is the proof. 

“Was he- Was he  _ happy _ ?”

“Oh yes,” says Quentin. “Very.”

Eliot relaxes, warm at the thought of his little boy, safe and sound on a train with endless magic and delight. 

“After I saw him.  _ Talked _ to him,  _ held _ him, I- I was ready to get off the train. And the second I was, it came to a stop.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here,” Quentin finishes. 

Tears well up in Eliot’s eyes, and he doesn’t try to stop them. He brings Quentin’s knuckles to his lips and kisses them, turns their wrists to kiss the back of Quentin’s hand. He reaches over his own body to thread his fingers through the strands of Quentin’s hair. The stretch burns his belly, but he doesn’t care.

_ Quentin, Quentin, Quentin. _

“Eliot, I- I don’t know how the train works, but if I’m here- If I’m  _ here _ , then-”

“Proof of concept,” interrupts Eliot. “I don’t need anymore, and I didn’t- I didn’t that day when I- I’m so sorry, Q. For what I said.” He hisses, winces, when he leans in closer, and Quentin moves to push him away, but Eliot shakes his head.

“Let me be brave.”

Quentin surrenders, fully, instantly, and Eliot savors this moment, then savors the taste of their kiss.

*

**Author's Note:**

> I love them. Don't you?? 
> 
> As far as I'm concerned, this is how season four ended, and the show was tragically cancelled before season five happened, so I guess we'll just have to write a lot of fan fic about it, huh? 
> 
> Love, Pri.   
> @thepriexperience, follow me on tumblr & say hi sometimes!  
> please review. <3 thank you for reading!!


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